


all kings is mostly rapscallions, as fur as I can make out

by etamine



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Louis is a little shit, M/M, Prince Louis Tomlinson, Spanking, Top!Harry, a little bit of angst, also a little top!louis, but he's cute so it's okay, doctor harry styles, fur coat, really minor character death?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-19 01:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2368757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etamine/pseuds/etamine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The look on Liam’s face told him this was a dumb question as soon as it had left his mouth. “How about you actually look at the name on those notes, Haz?”</p>
<p>Harry raised an eyebrow, but he looked down at the notes anyway.<br/> Shit.</p>
<p>“Louis Tomlinson? Louis fucking Tomlinson? Prince Louis Tomlinson?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Prince Louis Tomlinson. No wonder you didn’t laugh at my royal pain in the arse joke.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	all kings is mostly rapscallions, as fur as I can make out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hilarry13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hilarry13/gifts).



> soooo the prompts i was given were a little vague, so i hope you don't mind that i fleshed this one out!
> 
> thankyou to all my friends who put up with my requests of 'help me!' and for checking things out for me :) and to the written kitten website whoever made that <3 u

That day day started like most of Harry’s days - fucking Marimba blasting from his iPhone at some ungodly time. He’d pressed snooze until Zayn had yelled “Get the fuck out of bed!” from the other room, his voice heavily slurred from still being mostly asleep.

 A Zayn with a messed up sleep schedule was scarier than waking up and having to face the world, so like always that was what had Harry clambering out of bed, getting ready for work and grabbing a croissant for in the car.

Being a doctor was good in a lot of ways - saving lives, something new every day, proud parents - but the long working hours, screeching patients and aching feet by midway through a shift weren’t exactly perks. His brain was a bit of a blur thinking about whether he’d done the right thing on his last patient and whether he should have thought a bit more about withdrawal with him when he got a buzz from Liam, asking him to come discuss the next patient he’d been assigned to.

That was a bit weird in itself really, since Liam didn’t usually want to discuss patients. Normally he’d just grab the next set of notes and hand it off, yelling which bay the patient was in as he checked off that they were being seen so the hospital didn’t get on his ass about targets. When Harry had come in that day though, he was actually facing his desk and not the computer, tapping his fingers on a thin set of patient notes and he’d even kicked out a chair from the table for Harry to sit on.

“Lock the door. This stuff’s next level, Haz. Next level shit.”  Harry furrowed his brows but did what he said, sitting in the slightly dusty chair opposite Liam. He quickly realised Liam Payne was actually on edge, which Harry didn’t think would ever happen while they were in work. When he’d told Liam about a patient trying to claw out his eyes he hadn’t even turned away from his computer as he’d called security, so whatever this was definitely had to be big.

Liam cleared his throat as he slid the notes over the table with a sigh.

“Twenty one year old male, got tackled playing football. Told the Mr Cowell when he first -“  
 “Cowell? So he’s already seen a consultant? Why am I here then?”

“Because he’s a royal pain in the arse,” snorted Liam, laughing just enough at what he’d just said to unnerve Harry. “Wouldn’t let Cowell touch him, he told Sophia when she went seeing him that he refused to see anyone but a - and I quote - ‘really fit male doctor’. She said she thinks you’d be the best option.”

“Any particular reason this patient gets to make these demands and Sophia is actually listening to him?” asked Harry. “What kind of patient gets a consultant, one of the best consultants in the country in fact, rejects them, then has Sophia, big boss lady Sophia, actually say okay to whatever they want?”

The look on Liam’s face told him this was a dumb question as soon as it had left his mouth. “How about you actually look at the name on those notes, Haz?”

Harry raised an eyebrow, but he looked down at the notes anyway.  
 Shit.

“Louis Tomlinson? Louis fucking Tomlinson? Prince Louis Tomlinson?”

“Yes, Prince Louis Tomlinson. No wonder you didn’t laugh at my royal pain in the arse joke.”

He should have guessed it’d take dealing with the wild child first in line to the throne to get Liam to actually turn away from his computer and discuss a patient.

“So you want me to deal with the guy who’s going to be king when his dad keels over? Me? I tripped over my own feet coming in today and about 8 patients bloody saw it. I can’t deal with a prince.”

“Well don’t tell him that. Sophia said she wants you to do it, so you’re doing it.”

“I guess so,” said Harry, sighing as he flicked through the notes. Other than this admission, there wasn’t much of anything. A fever here and there, a tonsillectomy, standard checkups - at least it wouldn’t be too complicated. “Why’s he in Manchester anyway?”

“He was playing in some charity football match at Old Trafford, according to the guy who brought him in, got tackled by Rafael.”

“You been following his match or something? I knew you must break and do fun things when you’re not doling out cases.”

Liam rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Just get out there and keep him happy, yeah? He’s in the private area, room 1. I’m gonna tell his security when you’re on your way down there, so just show them your ID if they start hassling you.”

“If I get hung drawn and quartered because he doesn’t like me, I hope you’ll feel at least a little bad about it Payne,” huffed Harry, standing up to leave the room and feeling like he was going to shit himself.

There was no way he could fuck this up. Not if he wanted to keep his neck nicely in tact.

…

Harry hadn’t ever really worked in the private rooms before. It wasn’t like the general public ever got to use them, they were reserved for celebrities (usually footballers, especially around the times United or City played). The patients in there got the best consultants the hospital had to offer, not someone like Harry who’d only qualified a year before. Even the receptionist at the desk in there gave him a look as he walked in, which only served to make him even more nervous.

He didn’t belong in here, no way. He was gonna get laughed out of here as soon as Prince Louis saw him, there was no way -

“Mate, I swear to god if you’re a fucking pap,” grunted a burly looking guy with security plastered on his chest.

“Um, no, I’m a doctor here,” said Harry sheepishly, unclipping his ID card from his belt and showing it to him. The look on his face didn’t get any less suspicious, but at least Harry was waved through to the door to Louis’ room.

He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but Prince Louis in shorts practically being spooned by some cackling blonde _really_ wasn't it. “Fuckin hell Lou can’t believe you -“  

“For gods sake Niall,” shushed Louis, pushing him away and sitting up once he caught sight of Harry. Harry could feel his cheeks practically burning as blue eyes ran over his body, and he cleared his throat quickly before he could get too flustered by it.

“Err, I’m Dr Styles, I’m gonna be your doctor today,” he said, trying not to let on exactly how nervous he was as he went to the room’s sink to clean his hands.

 “Yeah. You are gonna be my doctor. Niall, get up so Dr Styles can get to me properly, yeah?” he heard Louis say, practically purring as he let the Dr title roll off his tongue. Harry didn’t even need to turn around to know that he was probably smirking.

Once his hands were all dried off, Harry turned around, hoping he wasn’t as red as he thought he might be. “So this was a football injury, yeah?” he asked, eyeing Louis’ swollen knee.

“Yeah, Rafael tackled me. It was pretty sick. Well, apart from the fucked up knee and that, but still, _sick_ ,” laughed Louis, which Harry could only blink at. He’d kind of assumed that injuring the heir to the throne would get Rafael extradited, but apparently not.

“I’m just gonna take a look at it. Did you hear any cracks or pops? Have you been able to bear any -“

“Pops yeah, and nope, can’t walk,” grinned Louis. “Nice hands. Very…large. Is the rest of you as big?”

“I, uh,” stuttered Harry, realising that not going red throughout this examination was going to be absurdly difficult, especially with Louis’ blonde friend cackling from where he was sat in the corner.

“Nah, don’t worry, I’m just joking with you love, ignore Niall’s laughing. You can definitely give me an answer if you want to though. Can you check my knee and get me drugged up all nice so I can go home? Gogglebox is on tonight, I don’t want to miss it.”  
 “This could be a serious injury,” said Harry, frowning a bit. “We can’t rush examining you so you can be out in time some bloody TV sho-“

“I’ll have you know that it’s the best fucking TV show in the whole entire world,” grinned Louis, scooting up the bed as best he could with his knee in the condition it was. He grabbed Harry’s ID, eyes poring over the words. “So you don’t like Gogglebox, Harry?”

Harry sighed, trying to contort himself a bit so he wouldn’t have to swat Louis’ hands away to look at his knee. “It’s alright, don’t really get to watch it that often though,” he admitted, one hand cupping around his thigh and the other just under his knee as he moved his knee to check it.

“What’s going on with it?” asked Louis, practically hissing with pain with the movement. His eyes snapped back open to glare at Niall though after the blonde said something along the lines of chopping his leg off.

“You’ve got some pretty severe swelling and you said no to walking, that test I just did says it’s probably an ACL injury.” Harry was working his bottom lip between his teeth when he said it; he’d been hoping it was just a sprain or something else minor. “I’m gonna send you for an MRI to confirm that and see how severe it is.”  “Wait, that’s what Bebé had, isn’t it,” said Louis, eyes wide and mouth forming an almost perfect circle. “He was out for six months!” Harry wondered how the hell he had time to keep up with football to that level.

“Dunno, you probably know more about that than me,” Harry admitted, finding himself a bit shocked at how reluctant he was to let go of Louis’ leg (it was admittedly a really fucking nice leg though, so he let himself off). “You okay with me letting Zayn do your MRI? Pretty sure he fits what you asked Sophia for, minus the doctor bit,” he asked as he scribbled down what he’d found on a blank page in Louis’ notes.

“ _You_ fit what I asked her for though, if Sophia was the woman who came in to speak to me before,” said Louis, rolling his eyes. “Can you not do it?”

“M’not a trained radiologist though,” shrugged Harry. “You’ll like Zayn though, we’ve got a tally on the wall for the amount of people who ask him to do their MRIs once he’s seen them once.”  Louis seemed to think about it for a minute, then rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. “Fine,” he said, pouting a bit. “Gimme your card though, so that if he’s a knob I can call you.”

“Don’t really have a card, I’m only a doctor…” said Harry, biting his lip as he tapped the MRI request into his pager. After he'd thought about it a bit, he grabbed one of the leaflets about head trauma that were kept in a cupboard in the room, messily scrawling his number down on the back of it. Louis visibly perked up a bit as it was handed to him before giving an indignant yell as some healthcare assistants came in to wheel him away.

...

Harry didn't think he'd ever see or hear from Prince Louis again outside of the papers that seemed to track his every move, but Louis didn't seem to want to let that happen.

The first text had come about an hour after Louis had been wheeled from the hospital room. Harry thought that whatever expensive private school he'd been sent to clearly hadn't done its job - or the drugs the hospital had given the young prince had certainly done their job - because that first text was absolutely unreadable. Even Liam hadn't be able to decipher it, and he was the absolute worst typer that Harry had ever known. Harry had typed out a ' _Good .xx'_ as a reply and left it.

The next texts had come the morning after, and it was significantly better. Harry had been working on the neonatal ward at the time and checking that a pair of twins were okay after a difficult birth when his phone had started buzzing. And buzzing. And buzzing.

He'd had to step out to escape the glare of a new mother who had that haircut that at least 50% of difficult patients had, checking his phone once he was out of view.

**"Thanks for yesterday Curly! When am I gonna get my private checkup ;)"**

**"Oi, reply to me!"**

**"Rude."**

Of course it was Louis. Of bloody course.

_"I thought Mr Cowell was doing your follow up? xx"_ he'd replied rather naively before going back in to pick up the ward rounds again. It was only a few minutes before his phone buzzed yet again.

**"Don't play hard to get ;) Think I need some...extra examinations"**

_Oh._ It had clicked then what Louis wanted.

Like pretty much everyone of his age who was into guys, Harry had definitely masturbated a few times over some of the pictures of Prince Louis that were all over the papers most days. The wetsuit pictures from his diplomatic trip to Brazil had almost changed Harry's life, almost made him fail his GCSEs when wanking over it became his number one procrastination activity.

(The ones where he'd worn the tightest jeans ever to some charity event were up there on Harry's list of best wanking material ever too, as were the photos taken of him naked and cupping his balls on some drunken escapade in Vegas.)

So really, he wasn't going to say no to this kind of offer. It wasn't like Louis was incompetent, and he wasn't a patient anymore, so this was totally fine.

He glanced around anyway to check nobody was going to come over and look over his shoulder, chewing his lip before typing, _"I get off shift around 7ish, where do I need to meet you? .xx"_

The reply was lightning fast - Harry wondered if wealthy princes got special phones that sent texts automatically from your brain instead of you having to type out the words yourself.

**"A chauffer will pick you up."**

**.**..

Harry knew that wherever Louis was staying was bound to be amazing. He'd wondered whether it'd be some royal estate they had languishing around Manchester or Cheshire - where did royals actually stay, anyway? Thinking about that question was practically the only reason he wasn't hard enough for it to be massively obvious as he got out of the car.

He hadn't really been expecting a hotel, although he probably should have ought to.

The Lowry was beautiful though, right by the river in the heart of the city and the inside was immaculate. There was a huge glass staircase he saw as he was led to a lift, one of the hotel staff whispering to him that there was no point them using it, the Prince was way up in the penthouse.

Once he was out of the lift there was a small corridor he was pointed down, and he knew he was definitely in the right place when he saw two burly security guards stood outside the door. They weren't the same guys he'd seen in the hospital which made him more than a little nervous, but surprisingly they just waved him through.

"You fucking tease," he groaned when he saw how Louis was lay on the bed.

It was clear that he'd been waiting for him from the smirk on his face. His knee was carefully braced up so he had that leg propped up on a pillow, but the other leg was bent so his cheeks were parted and a soft, pink hole on display.

One small hand was working slowly over his cock which was already leaking with precum, the tip an angry red, lashes casting shadows over his cheekbones and soft moans leaving his lips.

Princes were apparently uncut, by the way.

Harry pulled off his shirt and trousers, leaving all the tattoos his work clothes normally covered fully on display. He climbed on the bed carefully, big broad frame covering the prince's soft, small curvy one and a hand gently slapping Louis' hand away from his dick.

"You," he started, voice gravelly as he gently moved Louis' wrist, pinning it next to him. "Are the most demanding patient I've ever bloody had."

A breathy laugh escaped Louis' lip at that, blue eyes opening up and looking at him. "Think I need examining, doctor," he said, batting his eyelashes in a way that might almost look innocent had Harry not found him in the state he had.

"Need supplies then," said Harry, tongue swiping over his own lips hungrily. He leaned down, teeth nipping gently at Louis' collarbone, which got another small moan out of him.

"Under the bed," Louis managed, and Harry leaned over to check. Sure enough, there was a bottle of lube and some condoms waiting there for him. He grabbed them quickly before returning to Louis, using one hand to pin both of his wrists above his head and leaning down to snatch his lips up in a kiss.

Louis was almost boneless beneath him, gone completely pliant at the kiss. After a few seconds he started kissing back, and Harry forced his tongue into his mouth. If Louis wanted a fuck then he was getting fucked in the truest sense of the word, there was going to be no softness until this was done.

He pulled away not long after, letting go of Louis' wrists for a second to lube up his fingers. He eased one inside of the smaller boy, crooking his finger a bit to search out his prostate. His mouth worked along his torso, leaving lovebites blooming on his tanned skin.

He caught his lips again as he slid in a second finger, letting Louis moan out loud into his mouth as he roughly pumped them in and almost all the way out of him over and over, scissoring his open once he seemed like he was just getting used to the stretch.

He was rock hard by the time he got his ring finger inside him, swiping his tongue over Louis' left nipple as he thrusted them in and out quickly, jabbing at Louis' prostate repeatedly once he'd got one moan out of him.

He kissed him again before sitting up on his knees, not expecting Louis to sit up too. He sat back and watched as Louis eagerly shoved his boxers down, tore open a condom and took his sweet, sweet time easing it over Harry's shaft. "Jesus christ," he whispered, almost in awe of Harry's size.

Harry carefully shoved him back down on the bed once the condom was on, lubing himself up before settling himself between Louis' knees, being careful not to mess with the one that was currently braced up. He wrapped his fingers around his hips as he eased himself inside, letting out a moan himself at how tight Louis still managed to feel around him after all that stretching. He didn't move straight away though, instead waiting for Louis to give him a nod that it was okay.

Once he was given the go ahead he started thrusting, pulling Louis' hips to snap against his so he'd go balls deep. He saw Louis' hand going to his cock again but he swatted it away, managing to get out, "Want you to come just from this."

He kept going and before he knew it he felt that familiar coil of heat in his stomach and he practically saw stars as he came harder than he thought he ever had, fucking his way through it and feeling what could only be Louis' cum splattering between their stomachs.

He was panting hard when he pulled out, fingers trembling a bit as he pulled off the condom and tore it in a knot. He got up and tossed it in the bin and wet a flannel in the sink before coming back to Louis. "You alright?" he asked, voice a bit softer as he wiped the boy's stomach clean. "This is the quietest I've heard you."

Louis let out a soft laugh at that, nodding. "I just... _wow_ ," he said, voice breathy and tired out. "Should have answered me when I asked if the rest of you was big, I needed a warning about that," he murmured, pointing down to Harry's crotch.

Once his blushing had died down and Louis was properly cleaned off, Harry lay down next to him on the bed, pulling him into his arms. "What ended up happened with your knee in the end?" he asked, stroking his fingers through Louis' hair.

"Gotta use crutches and do physiotherapy," sighed Louis, pressing his head into the crook of Harry's neck. "No surgery though. You were right, that Zayn guy was pretty..."

Harry rose an eyebrow, gently poking a finger into the dip of Louis' waist. "Oi," he said, nosing into Louis' hair. "Maybe you should have invited him over here then," he teased.

"Nah, he was too perfect. Like fake looking, liked you better," he heard Louis mumble.

...

The texting and occasional visits (they were less frequent now Louis had left Manchester and was splitting his time between Balmoral and Buckingham Palace) continued after that. Every time Harry came off shift he'd have a few texts off Louis, ranging from texts about stupid things he'd done that day to frustrations with something that had happened and sometimes, when it had been way too long between visits, a picture.

Those pictures meant Harry waited until he was safely in his car before he opened up those texts now.

Harry didn't really know what to call their relationship - friends with benefits was too little, since every interaction was either romantic or sexual, there was nothing platonic about them and he hadn't really dared to use the word 'boyfriend'. It hadn't come up yet, and he wasn't going to go around thinking of himself as Prince Louis' (the title was sounding weirder and weirder now, since he saw Louis with a freckle right on his inner thigh and Louis who liked to pull on curls when he was horny and Louis who liked to hook his legs over you when he slept which made it difficult to escape to work in the mornings) boyfriend and he didn't even know whether a Prince was allowed to have a bloody boyfriend, or whether this thing that they had going on would have to stay a secret that went with them to the grave.

There were way too many unanswered questions really, so Harry had settled on calling himself Louis' Harry and Louis _his_ Louis and that was enough really. Honestly.

Today though Harry hadn't got a single text from Louis, which was really fucking weird. He hadn't even responded to his joke he'd sent this morning about what happened to the man who was all left.

It was weird, and Harry really didn't like it at all, and he wondered whether this thing wasn't really a thing any more.

"You're moping," said Zayn, sitting next to Harry in the break room. "What's happening?"

"Nothing," sighed Harry, shoving his phone back into his pocket. "A friend isn't texting me back."

"Ah well, fuck em," Zayn shrugged, putting his feet up on the coffee table and flicking the TV on. "They might be busy or something."

Harry nodded, sighing. He glanced at the TV, watching Zayn flick through the channels.

And then it hit - a giant big headline at the bottom of BBC News, stark white letters against a red background.

"Holy fucking shit," whispered Zayn, his jaw dropping. "The king's dead."

Harry stood up, walking out straight away. He needed to get hold of Louis, because he knew there was no way he was going to be alright. He'd just lost his dad - he didn't know if they were close or not, but he knew it was going to hurt him either way - and now, _his_ Louis, Louis who was more used to partying instead of anything else, was going to have to become king.

He hadn't even stuck around long enough to find out how the king had died, whether there was an accident and Louis was in it too, and that thought had him dialling Louis' number the instant he was no longer inside the hospital.

"You absolute shit," he whispered under his breath when there was no answer.

He tried again, getting the same result.

He felt like he was about to cry with frustration when he felt a finger tapping on his shoulder, and he turned around to find Zayn.

"You're trying to call Prince Louis, aren't you?" he said, pulling him into a hug. Harry just nodded, not really thinking enough to wonder exactly how Zayn knew.

It wasn't long before Zayn was offering up an explanation anyway. "I've been texting Niall, his advisor. You know the guy who brought him in when he needed that MRI? He told me about you two."

"Oh," said Harry, nodding a bit. "Wait, can you get hold of him now? I need to know if -"

"He's not answering mate, I'm sorry," said Zayn, shrugging. "Listen, do you want to go home? You're all tense at the minute and I don't want to send you back in to get some shit assignment off Liam and end up snapping a patients neck."

"I wouldn't -" started Harry, but Zayn was putting his hand up to silence him.

"Just go, alright? I'll deal with Liam and Sophia, just go home and wait for news, yeah?"

...

Harry snapped his focus from BBC News as soon as his phone finally lit up with Louis' name. It had taken 3 hours of waiting since he'd found out, and he'd tried calling at least once every ten minutes. Well, 5 minutes for the first hour, he'd dropped the frequency down after that in case the constant phone calls were annoying Louis.

His phone barely managed one ring before he'd snatched it up and accepted the call. "Louis babe, are you alright?"

"No," wailed Louis, voice thick enough that Harry could tell he'd been crying. "Harry, what the fuck and I gonna do? I can't be a fucking king, do you know what happened the last time a king fucked up? I'm gonna be the next bloody George IV, everyone's gonna hate me and the entire country's gonna be in bloody debt then I'll die."

"Louis, you're not - you're not gonna mess up, alright? You're gonna be just fine," said Harry, trying his best to keep his voice calm in an effort to calm Louis too. "You can do this, you've got parliament to do most of the stuff anyway, it'll be okay. Are you on your own? Do you want me to drive down to London or wherever you are?"

"Yeah, please," said Louis, voice small. "Just...yeah. I'm in Norfolk. At Sandringham."

...

The drive down to Norfolk was chaos, for lack of a better word. For whatever reason it seemed like everyone and their mother was going in the exact same direction - although the radio said it was basically just everywhere that was backed up with it being rush hour. He'd seen at least 5 wrecks on the way and been forced to take the smaller back roads to get past them in a reasonable length of time.

When he and his shitty car were waved through the gates at Sandringham House though he knew that it was definitely going to get harder.

He practically ran through the palace, ignoring the plush decor and the Rembrandts and a Monet on the wall, just wanting to get to his Louis who according to their last phone call, wasn't coping well.

He'd never been so relieved to see Niall in his life, the blonde practically grabbing him as he ran down a corridor and shoving him towards the correct door. Harry grunted a thanks to him before opening up the door, seeing his boy curled up on an oversized bed and sobbing his heart out.

"Louis, shh, shh," he soothed, clambering on the bed and gathering the smaller boy up into his arms. He rubbed a hand up and down his spine as Louis practically melted into him, tangling his small fingers into his curls.

"I just, fuck," whimpered Louis, shaking his head before burying it into Harry's neck. "I dunno how I'm gonna do this, he wasn't meant to go yet."

Harry hadn't really talked about Louis' dad with him at all, really. Obviously Louis knew that Harry was fully aware of who he was, but other than that? He'd stayed pretty quiet on the whole subject, they'd never got around to discussing it since their focus was always on something else.

He shifted so more of Louis' weight would be resting on him, hoping maybe he could make Louis feel a bit more protected if he did that. "We'll get through it, yeah? I know it's a shock, but it's gonna be alright."

"You'll stay with me though, yeah? Please stay with me Harry."

...

Louis' coronation was by far the grandest event Harry had ever seen in his life. He'd been sat next to David Beckham for christ's sake, and he'd texted Louis as much which had earned him a nice sweaty, jealous text in return.

(He'd told Becks how big a fan Louis was, but that went without saying really.)

He'd watched Louis walk out with his sisters carrying the giant cape draped around his shoulders, and a giant crown covered in jewels that were probably worth enough to pay Harry's student loan debt about 100 times over be placed on his head and his mum had been texting him the entire time asking questions. She'd always been a royalist, really, bless her heart. She'd nearly had a heart attack when she'd found out about him and Louis.

They'd been out as a couple since just before Louis' dad's funeral, since there was no way Louis was going through that kind of ordeal on his own and there were no rules against a gay king that Louis couldn't overturn as king anyway. Harry quite liked being known as whatever posh word it was the newspapers liked to use for him instead of boyfriend, made him feel regal no matter how many times he'd tripped over his own feet in front of cameras.

All in all, he'd spent a day surrounded by obscenely rich people without getting Louis alone once. And it had been alright, but he knew what he wanted at the end of the day when he was guided up to Louis' new room in Buckingham Palace.

It was gigantic with an enormous bed he couldn't wait to, and he undressed once the door was shut, waiting for Louis to show up. He knew there'd already be lube in the top drawer (they were trying without condoms since Harry had insisted on tests for them both - that doctor part of him still made a lot of the more logical decisions for him, even if he wasn't working full time any more so he could run around the world with Louis instead).

He wasn't going to get it out yet though, he'd planned this night out. They were going to try some stuff they'd both been wanting to do for a while and the other had been a bit reluctant to go for really.

When Louis came back in he still had that giant fucking cape on, but Harry didn't have the heart to make him take it off. Sex with Louis wearing a fur cape big enough to make 3 tents would probably be cool, really. The rest of his clothing was tugged off though, Harry pressing him against the wall and connecting their lips for the first time since Louis had been dragged away from him to prepare for the day's events.

"Missed me?" smirked Louis, his hands finding their way to Harry's hips and digging in a bit. Harry knew there'd be bruises in the shape of tiny royal fingertips there in the morning.

"Not really," shrugged Harry, putting a hand on each of Louis' asscheeks before scooping him and his ridiculous cape up and carrying him to the bed. "I was sat next to David Beckham you know, s'only a matter of time before I manage to get Victoria out of the way and he'll be all mine."

"And you call me a little shit," huffed Louis as he was bent over Harry's knee on the bed. Harry could feel that he was hard though, and wondered exactly how many foreign dignitaries he'd had to speak to like this. He'd known he'd get him back for the time he got sent pictures of the royal ass in the geriatric ward.

He shoved that cape over Louis' side, exposing the arse he'd been dying to have a proper play with since pictures of Louis swimming had been splashed all over OK magazine years ago. There was no arse like Louis' really, soft and full yet somehow well tones so there wasn't an excessive amount of give when you touched it. It was absolutely bloody mesmerising.

And Louis had said he could do what he liked with it tonight, as long as he got to have his fun in return.

He lifted one had up, quickly bringing it down onto Louis' arse and relishing the loud smack that echoed throughout the room. He rubbed his hand over the reddening skin gently, marvelling at how it was heating up.

And then he did it again but on the other asscheek and a little harder this time, drinking in the yelp that escaped from Louis' lips. He leaned down and blew on his skin, grinning when the cold sensation had Louis moaning out.

"C'mon, it's my coronation," huffed Louis, easing himself back up. "Lay down, I wanna try topping."

Harry had never topped for anyone. Ever. He liked to give, not to receive.

But Louis had asked him last night, practically begged, so he'd had no choice but to give in and let Louis give topping him a try.

He lay down on the bed, spreading his legs wide so Louis wouldn't have to work too hard. The smaller boy was already lubing up his fingers. Harry knew he'd be able to take those just fine - his own were much bigger and he'd managed to get two inside once before, until he'd got bored of exploring his own arse (or Zayn had banged on the wall of his uni room, telling him to shut up, one of the two).

When one digit breached his hole he couldn't help but take in a shuddery breath though, since it was definitely something he wasn't used to. Louis seemed to at least be merciful, spending some time opening him up with that one before adding a second.

"You're not relaxing enough," sighed Louis, tracing circles on Harry's thighs as he gently scissored him open. He leaned over, pressing a kiss to his lips before returning his attention back to opening him up.

It took a while, but eventually a third finger found its way inside him and Louis' fingers crooked against his sweet spot, until Harry was basically begging him to get inside him.

Louis was slow easing his way in (but loud, so very loud), and stayed still until Harry nodded to let him move.

Louis' thrusts were as tender as shagging could be really, and he whispered out praise when Harry moaned a bit at the friction of Louis' cock inside him. He had his hand on his cock, furiously working over it until he came between their chests. He felt Louis cum inside him not long after, the clenching around him driving him to climax.

"Fuck," whispered Harry, letting a tired looking Louis collapse on top of him as he pulled out. "Did you tire yourself out babe?"

"Kings get tired too, you know." 


End file.
